Chapter 12 : The Interviews
The interview stage blazed with light.
Thousands of Capitol citizens packed the audience, their colorful fashion creating a sea of absurdity that would have been funny if they weren't here to watch children promise to kill each other. Cameras floated overhead, capturing every angle for broadcast to the entire nation.
Backstage, twenty-four tributes waited in numerical order.
District 1 went first. Their tributes were polished—Marvel all confidence and charm, Glimmer selling beauty like a product. The crowd applauded appropriately, wrote checks for sponsorships, moved on to the next entertainment.
District 2 was more memorable. Cato promised violence with the certainty of someone who'd spent his life preparing for this moment. Clove smiled like she was already counting kills. Their combined brutality sent a clear message: Career pack open for business.
Rue's interview made me grip the armrest of my waiting chair.
She played innocent perfectly—wide eyes, quick smiles, the kind of vulnerability that made audiences want to protect her. When Caesar asked about her chances, she said, "I'm small, but I'm fast. And I know how to disappear."
Good girl. Stay disappeared as long as you can.
Thresh barely spoke during his interview. Caesar tried every angle, but the massive tribute answered in monosyllables until the buzzer released him. The crowd didn't know what to make of him, which was probably exactly what he wanted.
District 12 was last.
"Nolan James!"
I walked onto the stage with my shoulders loose and a practiced smile on my face. Caesar Flickerman—blue hair, sparkling teeth, the consummate entertainer—rose to greet me with warmth that was either genuine or excellently faked.
"Nolan! The volunteer from District 12! How are you feeling tonight?"
"Honestly, Caesar? A little underdressed." I gestured at his elaborate suit. "I asked for sequins, but my stylist said they were 'inappropriate for someone who scored a six.'"
Laughter rippled through the audience. Caesar grinned.
"Now, now, a six is respectable! What did you show the Gamemakers?"
"Mostly how to build a fire without burning the building down. Very impressive stuff. The height of survival technology."
More laughter. I was working the crowd, feeling them shift from indifference to interest. The forgettable tribute was suddenly quotable.
"But seriously, Nolan—you volunteered. Nobody from District 12 volunteers. Why?"
The room went quiet. This was the moment that would define me.
"I spent my whole life being careful," I said. "Playing it safe. And I realized I wasn't living—I was just not dying yet. Waiting for something to happen while nothing ever did." I paused, let the weight land. "So when they reached for that name, I decided: whatever comes next will be my choice. Not luck. Not chance. Mine."
Silence. Then someone in the front row started clapping, and the applause spread like fire.
Caesar leaned forward. "And how do you feel about your district partner? Katniss Everdeen scored an eleven—highest of the Games."
"She volunteered the same day I did. Different reasons, same result. We're in this together." I smiled. "Also, she can shoot an apple from fifty feet. I've decided to stay on her good side."
The buzzer sounded before Caesar could follow up. He looked genuinely disappointed.
"Nolan James, everyone! The volunteer from District 12!"
I walked backstage to applause that felt almost warm. Katniss waited in the wings, her flame dress catching light, her expression somewhere between terrified and determined.
"Your turn," I said.
She nodded once and walked into the lights.
Katniss was stiff at first. Her answers came clipped, her smile forced, and I could see the audience losing interest in real time.
Then Caesar asked about Prim.
"Tell me about your sister," he said. "The girl you volunteered for."
Everything changed.
Katniss's shoulders dropped. Her voice softened. "She's twelve years old. She heals hurt animals—birds with broken wings, cats nobody wants. When our father died, she was the one who kept us together." Her eyes were bright. "I couldn't let her come here. I couldn't watch her walk into that arena when I could stop it."
The audience leaned forward. Somewhere, someone was crying.
"She sounds remarkable," Caesar said quietly.
"She is. She's the best thing in District 12. Maybe in all of Panem." Katniss's voice caught. "If I have to die for her to be safe, that's a trade I'll make every time."
Silence. The kind that happens when a room full of people suddenly remembers that beneath the spectacle, children are going to die.
Then Caesar smiled and stood. "I believe you, Katniss. I really do." He took her hand. "But before you go—I understand your stylist has one more surprise?"
The trigger.
Katniss stepped back, raised her arms, and spun.
Fire erupted.
The dress transformed, fabric rippling into flames that danced without burning. Katniss spun once, twice, three times, each revolution feeding the illusion until she looked like she was made of fire rather than wearing it.
The crowd went insane.
"The girl on fire!" Caesar shouted over the roar. "Katniss Everdeen, District 12!"
The buzzer was lost in the chaos. Katniss walked offstage with flames licking at her heels, her face flushed, her hands shaking.
"How was it?" she asked.
"Perfect." I steadied her elbow as we moved toward the elevators. "They'll never forget you now."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Yes."
She almost laughed.
The roof was cold, but neither of us wanted to go inside.
Capitol lights stretched to the horizon, obscene and beautiful in equal measure. Tomorrow morning, we'd board hovercraft that would take us to an arena designed for our deaths. The stylists would dress us in identical uniforms, the cameras would track our every breath, and the nation would watch while we fought to survive.
But tonight, we were just two people looking at lights.
"You were good," Katniss said. "The lamb stew line from training—was that planned?"
I'd made that joke during our mock interviews when Haymitch asked about District 12's advantages. It had carried over without conscious thought.
"Some of it was planned. Some of it just happened."
"The part about not dying yet. That sounded real."
"It was."
She studied me with those hunter's eyes—the same look she'd given the Gamemakers before putting an arrow through their pig's apple.
"Sometimes I can't tell when you're lying."
"Neither can I." The admission came easier than expected. "I've been pretending so long I'm not sure what's real anymore."
"Is the partnership real?"
I turned to face her fully. "Yes. Whatever else is performance, that's true. In that arena, I'm watching your back. No matter what."
Katniss held my gaze for a long moment. Then she nodded—not agreement, but acceptance. Something had shifted between us, some final barrier fallen.
"Partners," she said.
"Until the end."
Tomorrow, the Games would begin. Twenty-two of us would die so two could live. The odds were against us, the arena was against us, and every Career in Panem would be hunting the girl who scored eleven.
But they'd have to go through a six to reach her.
And I'd been underestimated before.
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